Bad week
by sweeterreality
Summary: Set during season 6. House and Wilson living together - an exploration of their friendship.


**_So here's a fiction I wrote a few weeks ago, way back when House and Wilson were living together. It's basically a little snippet of their relationship and I thought it would be fun to explore their friendship. I do occassionally have moments when in my imagination Hilson would be so much fun - I've sort of touched the surface of it here, but I haven't explored House/Wilson romantically yet. As yet I'm undecided as to whether this is all I will do on this or whether to develop this further and get them hitched...just for the fun of writing a smutty Hilson fic XD. Hope you enjoy..._**

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_Friday Evening 5:30pm, late September:_

Wilson approached the apartment door tentatively. He stopped in his tracks and turned to lean his shoulders back against the frame, his head cradled against the wood. A deep intake of breath, as if he was sucking in courage from the atmosphere and then he keyed open the lock to make his way into the living space, discarding his briefcase and coat somewhere along the way into the kitchen.

"How it turn out with Jake?" House called over the sofa, through a mouthful of doughnut.

Wilson sighed inwardly, did House deliberately forget the names of patients or was he genuinely that uninterested in who they were?

"Josh." He corrected, flinging open the fridge door, "He died."

"Oh." House mumbled mid-chew, letting the awkward moment pass before rising from the sofa.

"Still, it's not like it was 'surprise of the century'; he _was_ a Cancer patient." House mused, making his way into the kitchen.

Wilson could feel the pressure of his blood reaching an all time high. What a crappy day at work. It was always hard losing a patient; it never got easier in this job, but this entire week had been one thing after another. What he needed right now was something warm to eat and some peace and quiet, not insensitive remarks from House.

"Yeah, I suppose the fact that he died of Cancer made his death _so_ much more bearable for his family." House flinched at the response he'd elicited from Wilson. Wilson's fork plunged violently into the cold cannelloni he'd found at the back of the fridge as he stared intently at the gooey spinach that spilled out. '_Looks weird', _he noted.

"That wasn't what I meant. I meant that at least it wasn't _unexpected_." House bit back. "And what the hell are you eating? Hasn't that been there since we moved in?"

Wilson practically spat out the pasta as the taste of spoiled cheese suddenly engulfed his palate.

"I knew what you meant and **my - God**." He spluttered, grabbing some juice from the fridge to rid himself of the taste.

"Why me?" He sighed as he tossed the food into the trash.

"Yeah", House mock supported him, "there are people dying of cancer...but the cannelloni is out to ruin your life, Wilson. Get a grip, it's just stale food."

That was it. The final straw.

"Get a GRIP, should I? This week I get my car clamped - no thanks to you might I add, have a mountain of paperwork, get my ass kicked by Cuddy, _again _no thanks to you, and then my patient dies and you can't even show an ounce of respect. Give me a minute while I just 'get a grip' would you?" He finally inhaled, staring exasperatedly at House.

Without a word, House grabbed his cane and strode straight out of the apartment, making a point of_ not_ slamming the door. He walked out into the bitter September air and hopped onto his bike. Time for a ride.

Wilson called him six times in the hour that he'd disappeared. House had nowhere else to go, it was late and it was dark. Wilson had heard the engine of his bike just after he'd walked out; '_God, I hope he didn't go to a bar.'_ He stroked his temple, trying to massage the stress of this whole week away from his mind.

_Friday evening 9:04_

Wilson sat in front of the TV in the dark, it was reeling off the news report - same old thing; robberies, murders, petty crime. The only difference was the date, the perpetrators and the presenters, just the same old mundane account of mindless crime.

He wasn't even paying attention, barely registering the images which flickered by. Half of him was too tired to even care about what the TV had to offer, especially after the day he'd had, and the other half was worrying about House.

He hadn't even taken his jacket when he'd left and it had started to rain at 6pm, where the hell was he?

Wilson sprung around in his seat when the door cracked open, spilling yellow light into the room from the hallway outside.

"Where did you go?"

"Just for a ride. Oh, and I got you this."

House held out a pizza box, the cardboard slightly damp from the rain.

"House you're soaked, do you_ want_ pneumonia?" Wilson went to the bathroom to grab a towel and returned, draping it over House's shoulders. He saw the pizza box on the coffee table, "Thanks. Is that what you went out for?" He asked, knowing that it wasn't.

"Yup, you should have seen the queue, 2 hour wait." The remark dripped with sarcasm as he ruffled his hair dry with the towel.

"I'm sorry. I overreacted earlier. Its wasn't you, I was just..." He let his arms flop down away from his hips.

House nodded, "You had a point; the cannelloni definitely had ulterior motives, it was trying to ruin your night. Good job the pizza place sells this doughy goodness." He smirked rattling the pizza box under Wilsons' nose.

Wilson smirked at him sheepishly, "You having some?"

"Sure." House hobbled to his bedroom to throw on some dry clothing when he noticed Wilsons watch on his bedside cabinet. Wilson had been wearing it when he got home from work. He must have been in Houses' room while he went for the bike ride. House smiled to himself, he knew Wilson was a world champion worrier; he would put money on the guess that Wilson had paced Houses' room staring at his watch, wondering where on Earth he was. The endless list of possible scenarios that House could have gotten himself into whilst riding a motorbike in the rain, on a cold night in a not-so-happy-state-of-mind would have been plaguing Wilson's thoughts. Something about that made House feel happy. Wilson cared about him, cared so much he had to pace Houses' room in an attempt to somehow be closer to him when he was far away.

"You missing something?" he held up the watch as he limped back into living room.

Wilsons' mouth fell agape.

"I wasn't contemplating riding my bike off a bridge, I just needed some space." He assured Wilson, settling down on the sofa next to him and grabbing a pizza slice.

"I...was worried." Wilson reasoned, "I called you. Six times."

House felt a pang of guilt at that last remark; he knew how Wilsons' mind worked. He had probably gotten more and more panicked with each call and convinced himself that House would be found in a gutter somewhere the next morning.

"Would you have had preferred me to answer my cell whilst riding a motorbike in the rain at 70 miles per hour?"

"70?" Wilson almost chocked on his pizza.

"You're kidding right? Tell me that was a joke?" He mumbled through a mouthful of pizza. Wilson gawped at House in genuine shock.

"Close your mouth, that's not attractive - the cheese it's..."

"House!" Wilson insisted.

"They were open roads!" He weakly defended.

"My God, House! So my concerns weren't completely unfounded - you were speeding in the rain on a death trap!"

"Well I'm here now, it's fine" he said nonchalantly, grabbing a slice.

"Don't do that again" Wilson pointed, waggling his finger at House "ever."

House rolled his eyes, propping his feet upon the coffee table.

Wilson leaned over and pried the watch from Houses fingers, he was met with resistance.

"Give me the watch House." He sighed.

House tugged harder until Wilson was practically crawling over his lap to wrench the watch from his hand which House teasingly held out at greater lengths.

"How bad do you want the watch '_Jimmy_'?" House goaded him like a 12 year old.

"House quit acting like a child." He practically whined, now straddling the other man and grasping at the air.

"Ahhhhghghg."

"What?" Wilson asked as he watched his friend's eyes squeeze tight in agony.

"Get off my leg!"

"See, it always ends in tears when you act like a pre-school kid." He lectured him, climbing off carefully.

House admitted defeat and stared at the TV while he flung the watch in Wilsons' general direction, catching him just above the eyebrow. Wilson almost screamed like a girl but managed to stifle the outward expression of his sudden pain, instead thwacking Houses right arm and clutching his face.

House turned to retaliate until he saw the blood trickling down the oncologists face. He pulled away Wilsons' hand to survey the damage and then grabbed a bunch of napkins he'd picked up from the pizza place to stem the bleeding.

"Tilt your head upwards. You really shouldn't provoke pre-school kids who hold chunky metal objects." He glanced sheepishly towards his best friend and quickly focussed his attention on the small wound rather than talking and allowing Wilson to see the guilt in his eyes.

"S'okay, it's just a little knick. It'll just look worse than it is when the bruising appears." Wilson assured House's unspoken apology, brushing his hand away and wandering towards the bathroom.

House exhaled audibly, scratching at the stubble gracing his jaw line.

"You know, all we've done since you got home from work is argue, sulk, verbally abuse one another and physically attack one other. Since when did we become a married couple?" He called.

Wilson chuckled, tossing the napkins into the trash and walking back to the sofa to sit beside House.

"We're both stressed I guess. Beer helps."

"Honestly?_ I_ managed to go missing for three hours to sulk while you crapped your pants that I'd rode off a cliff or that an anvil had dropped on my head. _You_ ignorantly crushed my bad leg,_ I_ ignorantly cut your face with a watch and now, now _you_ want to throw beer into the mix as if things weren't lively enough?" He looked at Wilson as though he was completely out of his mind.

"Okay, so not one of my brighter ideas, but my point was that we just need to relax somehow."

"Besides, I paid for your car to get unclamped and Cuddy was way more pissed with me than you." House rattled off.

"Huh?"

"From what you yelled at me earlier; before I went all Max Guevara on your ass, riding off into the night." He waved his hand chewing on the Pizza.

"Yeah, I know but we weren't even talking about that, I apologised."

"Just because you apologised doesn't mean you didn't mean what you said originally."

Wilson heaved a heavy sigh, "Look, the car clamp was both our fault, we were both late getting ready for work, we decided on a stupid parking space in the rush to get and it was nice of you to pay all of the fine. Admittedly Cuddy was more pissed off with you, she thinks you're a bad influence on me so her anger towards me was more of a stern talking to. There, I rationalised. I don't really blame you."

"So were good?" House probed.

"Yes. Want a beer?"

House smirked, indicating his approval.

"Beer would be good."


End file.
